


there's magic between you and me

by transstevebucky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Aromantic Character/s, Kissing, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transstevebucky/pseuds/transstevebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Louis’s silent, listening to him, a feeling of that’s me, you get me, you’re like me pulsing through him like lightning, like the feeling when you first get your wand. When you feel yourself cast your first spell, or when you win your first duel. This breathless, heady exhilaration that sinks bone deep.</i><br/> <br/>or; Louis and Zayn execute a plan, and Louis likes Harry (but not like that).</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's magic between you and me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rine/gifts).



> I was so excited when I got this prompt bc honestly.. a hp/1d crossover is something i've needed for a while and add that in with aro larry and you have My Favourite Things all in one. I changed up the prompt a bit to make it fit better, I hope that's alright! 
> 
> title/lyrics at the start of the fic taken from 'illusion' by 1d
> 
> hope you enjoyyy !!!!

_But believe me,_   
_I’m not trying to deceive you,_   
_I promise falling for me,_   
_Won’t be a mistake._

_________________________

Louis’s leaning on the barricade of the Astronomy tower when Zayn wraps his arms around his midriff.

He almost startles, brass telescope near slipping from between his fingers, but then he settles back into it. Zayn’s warm, and he needs company, so he’ll just cuddle him and note down the positions of planets on his chart and hope it’s good enough. Professor Reed loves him, anyway, so it’ll be fine.

Probably.

“It’s weird without you in the dungeons,” he mumbles, and Louis rolls his eyes, even though he can feel warmth settle in his chest, “like all the life’s been sucked out ‘f the room.”

He’d say he’s used to Zayn’s sappiness by now, but he’s not, really. It’s been years, and he’s still not really over how he can go from jinxing someone’s eyebrows off to curling up around you and practically purring. It’s part of Zayn’s charm, he supposes, how he’s so soft once you get to know him.

“I hate studying too, babe,” he mumbles, and scratches down some (probably completely misguided) information about Jupiter’s position, “doesn’t stop the fact that you’re ridiculous, but-”

There’s a sharp jab pressed between his shoulderblades that he knows for a fact is Zayn biting him, and he giggles in response.

Zayn’s so easy to get to; not as easy as Liam, but that’s mostly because he hides behind nonchalance and grinding teeth. Professor McGonagall always tells him he’s going to wear his teeth right down to the gums before he even finishes NEWT’s, but he doesn’t stop. Ridiculous and stubborn. He’s such a Capricorn. (Louis is, too, but Zayn’s worse, he thinks. Niall would agree -but then again, he’s a Virgo, so.)

Louis peers up at the sky, stars dazzling above them, and if he was more prone to being sappy he might say something absurd like ‘that’ll be us some day’, but he’s not. He’s stoic and proud. Untouchable.

They stand in silence for a while, Zayn stroking over the slight curve of Louis’s stomach (“It’s cute! I don’t know why, but it’s one of my favourite things about you.”) as Louis makes careful adjustments to his telescope and glances through the eyepiece. It’s dark around them, stars and distant lights from Hagrid’s hut the only thing illuminating the night, but there’s something safe about it. Homely, like Hogwarts always has been.

Zayn has to be freezing, considering the fact he’s only wearing a thin jumper (knitted by one of the house elves who’s completely enamored with him), but he lets Louis work in peace anyway. He’s a great mate, really.

Louis’s just searching for Mercury (more difficult than he expected, because merlin’s pants it’s tiny) when the hand resting on his stomach pauses, body behind him stilling. He stills with it, hand on the body of the ‘scope as he presses back against Zayn’s front to try and soothe him.

“Did you hear that?” There’s a panicked note to Zayn’s voice, the Bradford in his accent thicker than it usually is. “That creak?”

Louis glances out of the corner of his eye at the steps to their right, “I didn’t. D’you wanna check?”

He’s pretty sure that if there is an intruder, it’s not going to be anyone harmful. It’ll be someone trying to mess with their heads, and Louis doesn’t want to let them know how freaked out he is. Because Zayn doesn’t get freaked out often, and when he does there’s a valid reason for it.

There’s a slight jerk of a head behind him, and he takes that for a yes. He’s careful to make sure to leave his telescope in the same place before shifting away and drawing his wand.

“ _Cave Inimicum_ ,” he breathes, Zayn’s hand shaking on his waist.

There’s a spark, and then a yell, and Louis narrows his eyes immediately, because he knows that voice. Bloody hell, he can’t believe this.

“Liam, what the hell are you doing?”

“I was just trying to scare you a bit!” Liam grumbles back, shoving his invisibility cloak into a pocket. Louis is, like, ninety percent sure it’s not one that properly functions. (He’s pretty sure that the spell’s worn off a bit over the years, because every now and then you’ll get a glimpse of an eye or a finger, but Liam refuses to hear a word against it. Sentimental bugger that he is.)

“I don’t know why you were sorted into Gryffindor,” Zayn says, smacking him straight across the back of the head. Liam yelps, ducking away from Zayn’s hand as it rises again. “You’re such a raven.”

Liam looks genuinely offended, because of course he does. Lions never know how to stop themselves from going on and on about house pride, whereas Slytherins (a superior house, in Louis’s humble and not at all biased opinion) are genuinely loyal. Gryffindors would sell their own out for a couple of cheap tricks and the honour of knowing they did something by the book. Fun killers, the lot of them.

(Not that Louis’s bitter, or anything.)

“You could have messed up my astronomy homework,” Louis neglects to mention the fact that his astronomy homework’s been messed up since he started. For posterity reasons, obviously.

“We weren’t even doing anything,” Zayn adds, curling back up around Louis like a cat. He’s so like Midnight it’s a little scary. (Mind, Louis’s also taken on some traits of Aphrodite, but that’s neither here nor there. Ditey’s a better cat anyway.)

Liam wrinkles his nose, cheeks going pink, “you were cuddling, and I just thought, maybe.”

It takes a second for Louis to realise what he’s on about, but then when he does he feels his mouth snap open a little bit in shock.

“How many times have I gotta tell you we’re not dating and never will be?” He asks, voice squeaky. It’s embarrassing, but also adds to the tone of shock. He can’t believe Liam refuses to listen to him about this.

At least he has the audacity to look embarrassed, “It’s just that you’re really close with each other! Niall and I have a bit of a wager going on, and I just wanted to see if what you said was true!”

Louis feels anger tugging in his gut, and he slides his wand back into his pocket and counts to ten. He’s so tired of this.

“You know what, Li? Maybe I do have some burning desire to actually be in a long-term, committed relationship with Zayn. You’re right! I’m deeply in love with him.”

Zayn catches on two seconds before Louis wraps his legs around his waist and kisses him, straight on the mouth. It’s dry, Zayn not prepared for it, and Louis rolls his eyes and leans in harder, biting his lip before pulling away. There’s a glint in his eye that says trouble, which is precisely the reason Louis is best friends with him.

“Liam,” he calls, in some phony deep ‘seductive’ voice Louis would absolutely slap him for at any other time, “can you leave us alone, love?”

Liam’s gone such a ridiculous shade of pink that Louis’s pretty sure he’d be mistaken for candy floss. Incredible.

“Um, uh,” he flushes, scratching the back of his neck, and scarpers off, cloak flapping behind him like a little dragon tail.

In retrospect, Louis supposes that’s a little mean. He gets what Liam means, kind of, it’s just that he and Zayn have both come out as aro so many times in the last three years that it’s exhausting to have people still insist that they’re actually together, and in some kind of hidden relationship. Especially one of his closest friends.

Zayn settles him down and giggles into his neck, hand starting its usual movement up his stomach.

“I’ve got a plan.”

And that’s it, really. Settled.

_________________________

Zayn’s plan, of course, turns out to be just as ridiculous as Louis had expected.

In short, Zayn had a friend in Ravenclaw who could (with consent, because otherwise it’s just creepy) order in some specially made love potions from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and distribute them to members of different houses. Zayn’s explanation was far more long winded and complex than that, but that’s what it boiled down to. (Essentially, the whole plan is just a way to show Liam -and anyone else, for that matter- that their orientation isn’t going to change, and that it isn’t just some way to hide their secret love for one another. Which, Louis thinks, is a brilliant cause.)

“Her name’s Eleanor,” Zayn says, trying to clamber into his Quidditch robes, “all of the teachers trust her with their lives, so she’s the prime person for the job.”

Louis rolls his eyes, because honestly he makes it sound so dramatic.

“Didn’t she and Perrie date at some point? In fourth year?” He asks instead, because he’s nosy and brilliant at hiding his disdain. He’s such an incredible friend.

Zayn grins, nose crinkling like it always does when he smiles real big, “Pez said it was the most meaningful relationship of her life, right up until she realised she just felt platonically towards her and that she was lithro. Proper sweet, innit?”

Louis giggles into his knees as he double knots his laces, because the feeling’s so similar to he and Niall trying to date in second year that it’s a bit like a sitcom. That was a mess, too; Louis not understanding why Niall wanted so much close proximity and why that mattered, and Niall being hurt that Louis didn’t want that. It turned out fine, obviously, because Niall’s probably part satyr; he’s so calm all the time it’s alarming. (Zayn says he seems like a stoner, Liam just says it’s part of his nature.)

Zayn helps him stand, and they walk onto the pitch together, brooms slung over their shoulders.

The Slytherin team is, probably, the most respected team in the castle. (Hufflepuff would have something to say about that, but Louis likes to ignore blatant messages thrown his way. It’s his aesthetic.) They’ve won the house cup three years in a row; primarily because Louis’s been seeker for those three years, and also because Zayn’s been captain for two of them.

“So, you’re saying Eleanor can help us get one over on people who think our identities aren’t real?” Louis asks, just as he spots Perrie’s (currently) bright purple hair and speeds up, tugging Zayn along.

Perrie lets out a yelp, hair turning pale blonde in response.

“See you’re still letting your emotions rule,” he teases, and she wrinkles her nose in distaste.

“See you’re still annoying as ever.” She deadpans, jaw transforming into Louis’s own, before her whole face turns.

“You know, Pez, you’re looking really gorgeous today,” Louis grins, and she lets out a tiny snort before converting back to her original face. She pulls the joke a lot; thinks it’s funny, even though she’s completely wrong.

Zayn smacks them both across the back of their heads for the trouble, and turns to address the team as a whole. He always gets so into it when he’s practicing (even worse during an actual match), like his whole life depends on whether it’s a successful session or not.

The pep talk lasts barely five minutes before they’re off, Louis’s stomach swooping as he searches for the glint of the golden snitch. It’s heady, being up here, seeing everything and knowing that he controls it. That any movement is because he demanded it of his broom, every twist and turn and toe curling dive.

He circles the pitch, eyes roaming the ground for a hint of the snitch, letting himself do a roll once he reaches the goalposts, and it takes two seconds for Zayn to call him out for his dramatics. Never lets him have any fun, honestly. It’s like being best mates with the Minister for Magic when they’re playing.

It’s so freeing, finally being in the air after a few days of being laden down with homework, back cramping up over essays and parchment in the common room. Like a breath of literal fresh air, getting to watch Jesy and Jade grinning at each other as they throw the quaffle through the hoop as a pair (something they’re known for by now -the dream team, people call it, and Louis can’t say they’re wrong). He barely feels the chill on the tip of his nose through the exhilaration of soaring forty feet in the air, stars sparkling above him.

He’s just going into a wronski feint when he sees it, glinting forty yards to the left of him, hovering in one position, wings fluttering. He can practically feel the metal between his palms.

He leans close to the handle of his broom, puts on a spurt of speed, and soars towards it, fingers almost curling around it, smile slowly working over his face, before-

“Holy shit!”

The impact of the bludger smashing into his side doesn’t hurt at first, just sends him skittering straight off his broom, arms flailing as he tries to clamber back on. And then it hits like a freight train, a crushing ache in his shoulder and ribs, piercing through him like ice. It’s nothing, though, compared to the resounding crunch as he hits the ground.

“Jesus. Get to the ground and get him back to the castle! We’ll practice when he’s better and not showing off like a wanker.”

_________________________

When he wakes up, eyes feebly trying to close against the bright light, the first thing he notices is that someone’s whistling an old Celestina Warbeck tune.

“Please stop,” he grunts, voice so hoarse it scares even him. “I’m not well enough for that.”

He tilts his head to the side, shoulder protesting in pain, and blinks in confusion. It’s not anyone he’s met before, he doesn’t think. It’s not Zayn (which, thanks for abandoning him in his time of need, much), but someone carrying a brown tabby cat, the person’s hair curled behind their ears as they check on something pinned to a wall.

“You’re awake!” The voice replies, and. That’s a fairly deep voice, for someone who looks to be in the same year as Louis. “Your friends were waiting, I think, but Madam Pomfrey told them to leave.”

Louis wrinkles his nose, trying not to feel the self pity churning in his gut. He just wants a bit of a cuddle, really. Is that too much to ask? He’s pretty sure they have healing properties, anyway.

“Who’re you, then?” He asks, as the boy walks closer.

He’s also ridiculously tall, like someone stretched him out as a joke. A jinx gone wrong. But. He’s also really cute, round nose and cheeks and green eyes to top it all off, eyebrows wriggling like they’re about to dance straight off his face.

“I’m Harry,” he says, a smirk suddenly lighting his face up. Louis groans internally, already fully aware of what’s about to come. “Styles, not Potter, though it’s been said-”

Louis weakly lifts one hand to clamp straight over Harry’s mouth, “though it’s been said you’ve got the eyes, I’m presuming.”

Harry pouts, a little press against Louis’s hand, and. He actually doesn’t mind it. It’s sort of, for a lack of a better word, endearing. There’s something spectacularly endearing about this cat-toting, beanstalk boy who managed to get not only Potter’s name, but his eyes, too. Something that has a low thrum going in Louis’s veins, this insistent press of hold him hold him hold him.

“People usually let me finish,” he mumbles, and Louis suddenly regrets every second of his life he didn’t let Harry speak. Which is… alarming.

It’s just that, for someone who looks like the human version of a tomato plant, he’s got this soothing voice and way with words that makes Louis feel a little bit warm inside. It’s like he makes Louis want more, more opinions and jokes and grins that curve his cheeks into craters. He’s sort of horrified by it, because he’s always kind of prided himself on his ability to avoid getting squishes, and his luck seems to have run out.

He just really, really wants to mean something to this boy. Wants to prove himself, which is kind of ironic, considering that he’s sore from a Quidditch accident only caused by his own need to prove himself. But. Merlin. He’d really, really like to know him.

“I’m Louis,” he responds, chest suddenly feeling tight, “and I couldn’t let you finish. I just had a feeling you’d be like that.”

Harry frowns, eyebrows pulling together and making him look a little like a disgruntled bunny.

“Like what?” He asks, and if there weren’t a spark in his eye Louis might be worried he’d somehow pissed him off.

“Like a dork.” Louis smirks, trying to ignore the sudden need to hold Harry’s hand and not let go. He’s never been like this with anyone before, save perhaps Hannah, a girl he’d been best friends with before he came to Hogwarts.

Harry’s cackle after does nothing but prove to Louis that he’s monumentally fucked.

 

_________________________

The next time he bumps into Harry, he’s just going into the boys’ bathroom on the second floor.

No one usually goes in there, which may or may not be the main reason Louis only ever uses this toilet (and the Prefect ones, because as Zayn’s best mate he’s got the password to it, which is really why Louis keeps him around), but when he walks in and closes the door behind himself, there’s a small ‘oh’ a few feet in front of him.

He glances up so quickly he damn near snaps his own neck, and meets eyes with Harry, who’s got his hand pressed against the front of his trousers, trying to unzip them.

“I can explain,” Harry blurts, at the same time that Louis (for some reason unbeknownst to all of mankind) unzips his own jeans and steps towards the urinal.

A surge of embarrassment sweeps over him, then, and he can’t even bear to glance over at Harry without wanting to die a little bit, so he just focuses on pulling down his pants low enough to take a piss.

“I’m so sorry about that, I swear I wasn’t doing anything, and I totally get if you don’t want to, like, look at me ever again-” Harry cuts off, and Louis can see him nervously biting his lip in the corner of his eye, like what Harry’d done was the most embarrassing thing that’s happened in the last two minutes of his life.

Louis glances over to him fully, at the way Harry’s shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot, eyes a little bit damp like he’s so mortified he’s going to tear up, and no. No no no, that won’t do.

“Harry, honestly, don’t worry about it, darling,” he soothes, and nearly extends a hand before realising. “It’s fine, there’s no problem, and mostly I’m just embarrassed that I almost pissed on your shoe.”

Harry lets out this tiny gurgly laugh, like a baby makes, and Louis’s heart seizes up in his chest. This isn’t good. Squishes are such a bad, evil thing. He’s going to sue his own feelings.

He looks so cute when he laughs, little craters in his cheeks and teeth popping out over his lips. Louis wants to kiss him, a little bit, and then he pushes that thought down, down down, where no one will ever see it.

He hope Harry can’t see how much he wants to cuddle him and bite his neck a bit in his face, because he’s pretty sure he’s blushing. He hates when he blushes; even Niall, the most ruddy-faces Irish person in the whole world mocks him for it. Maybe he needs better friends.

“You didn’t, so that’s fine, honestly,” his green eyes go suddenly bright, then, like a beacon of light. Like some kind of art found only in backstreet Muggle museums and vintage shops. “Unless you wanted to.”

It doesn’t really, properly sink in for a couple moments, before he realises that this cat loving, easily embarrassed, humanoid just made a watersports reference, and seriously. What kind of hell does he live in, that he just starts mumbling in response, barely able to form a coherent sentence.

Instead of replying, he just hastily shoves his hands under the stream of water from the tap, and shouts “I’m going to be late, gotta go sorry!” before diving from the room, red from head to toe.

It was never like this in those Muggle romantic comedies his mum used to make him watch.

_________________________

He seems to see Harry everywhere after that; arranging books back into their shelves when he and Zayn are making plans for the Great Love Potion Fiasco, resting in the wintry sunlight by the lake as he and Niall write up notes for Defence Against the Dark Arts, expertly putting together an origami swan as Liam violently tells Zayn off for cheating on a Transfiguration test.

He takes it as a sign from the universe that the next time he tries to impress someone, it shouldn’t be accomplished by nearly snapping his own neck. That’s probably, like, some kind of omen for Failing Relationships Afoot.

“You know how to attract him, right?” Zayn asks, arms wrapped around Louis’s neck. His breath’s moving the hairs behind his ear, but it’s kind of nice, so he lets it happen.

“How?” Louis asks, instead of arguing that he isn’t trying to attract anyone, thank you very much. Zayn knows too much anyway; it would never work.

“The love potions -and no, before you start yelling, I don’t mean slip one into his drink without his consent. We both know that’s creepy as fuck. I mean,” he pauses for dramatic effect, and if he wasn’t protected by the couch he’s leaning over to hug Louis, he’d punch him in the balls, “I mean we change the plans a bit. Make it seem like we’re saving everyone by helping them to wear off, and then he’ll be so into the idea of you helping people that he’ll snog you right then and there.”

Louis frowns, because as nice as that sounds (he’s all for kissing, personally, as long as it’s consensual) it also sounds unrealistic. He doesn’t even know if Harry’s not straight. If he’d even like the idea of a platonic relationship, let alone one with Louis.

“Zee, I’m not sure. They’re not really, like. Known about, are they? Quasiplatonic relationships, they’re, well. Rare even for Muggles, I’ve researched enough to know that.” He hates the tiny tremor in his voice when he says it, wants to take the words back and act like the insecurities never got past his teeth.

Zayn doesn’t let on if he hears it, just leans in closer to him and nuzzles the side of his face. He really is like Midi.

“You know Draco Malfoy, don’t you?” He asks, and Louis doesn’t know where this is going, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, well, he was in a quasiplatonic relationship. Never much talked about it, but there were a few mentions in the Prophet a couple years back. Talk of ‘platonic kisses out with his partner’.”

“With who?” He can’t remember anything about that; maybe he’d blocked it out, or just not read it. The Prophet talks so much shit it’s a bit ridiculous, no one pays much mind any more.

“They never mentioned names specifically, but,” Zayn leans in, so close his eyelashes flutter on Louis’s cheek, “they implied it was Potter.”

The gasp Louis lets out frightens Ditey, who’s curled up next to the sofa. She lets out a low hiss, nose wrinkled like a tiny kitten, and then curls back over onto herself, paws settling under her chin. She’s so cute. Louis loves her so much.

“Was that during the time Ginny Weasley and he separated for a while?” He asks, because that he knows. It’d been splashed all over the press for weeks, images of Weasley training whilst crying, of Potter not going into the auror’s office for days on end. It’s still mentioned now, even, the occasional throwaway comment as to how the couple is ‘stronger than ever’.

“Around about then, yeah,” Zayn grins, deciding to hop straight over the couch and just lie in Louis’s lap. He lets him, just curls his fingers into his hair and huffs out an amazed breath.

It’s one thing, knowing in theory these things happen and that they exist, and not having literal proof of it, and a whole other to be aware of it happening. It’s like something slots into place, then. Like this was the last part of a puzzle piece he needed to feel better about it, to know what he wanted.

“We need to push up that plan.”

_________________________

Eleanor approaches them after Potions on a Tuesday afternoon, glint in her eye and rucksack hooked over her shoulder.

“I got them,” she says, which is fairly redundant in Louis’s opinion, since he can hear the clinking vials bouncing around behind her, “Fifty vials of potion. All of them work at the same strength as amortentia, and all of them are tailor made just for you. Would have cost me an arm and a leg, but Weasley owed me big time, so I got them free.” Louis won’t deny the fact that that power makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. There’s something really, really pleasing to know that something’s free.

Zayn grins, pulling her in for a hug before helping her to put all of the vials into his bag. It’s thrilling, to have to watch guard to make sure no teachers catch them doing this, twisting his head left and right just as Zayn’s head pops back up. His eyes are sparkling.

“Thanks, El. We owe you.” She does a (kind of embarrassing) pair of finger guns at them, and then disappears up the staircase, bag bouncing out of sight.

Zayn disappears soon after, mumbling something about finalising plans, and leaves Louis to himself. It’s a bit odd, walking around the dungeons without Zayn, always has been, because this has always been their place.

He’s just about to head to the dorms to put his stuff away and have a nap until dinner, when a hand grips him from behind.

“Louis!” It’s Harry, because how fitting is that, his curls falling to his shoulders, grin so wide on his face it must ache.

“Harry,” he greets, ignoring the tiny flutter in his stomach from nerves, “how are you today, babe? Weird seeing you without a cat in hand.”

Harry’s ears go bright pink, which is. Interesting.

“Uh, I’m doing alright… mate,” he mumbles, glancing down at his feet. And oh. Maybe he doesn’t like being called babe? He’d understand that, but he’s so used to calling everyone babe he’d just done it without realising.

“Oh, shit, Harry, I didn’t mean to call you ba-”

Harry really, really aggressively shakes his head, cheeks flushed with what looks like nerves. “No, it’s. Fine, actually, I kind of like it? Um. Maybe because? This is going to sound so creepy, I’m sorry, but I’ve kind of wanted to get to know you for a few years? And whenever you called Zayn or Niall babe it was like… that’s what your friends are to you. And. Um. I don’t know, this is just-”

“You want to be my friend?” He’s pretty sure the smirk on his face is more full of it than he means for it to be. It’s just. Harry wants to be his friend. The same person who made a joke about Louis pissing on his shoe, the same person who witnessed him all banged up and practically made of pity, wants to be his friend. That’s. That’s a bit overwhelming.

“Yeah. I mean, if you’d want-” He cuts himself off this time, nibbling on the corner of his thumb like Louis’s just going to laugh in his face. He really, really hopes that’s never happened to him before.

“Harry, of course I want that, don’t be daft. You’re incredible. You like cats, too, which is a bonus.” He doesn’t know where it comes from, but a sappy part of him wants to say from the heart, which is mortifying and he’s never going to tell anyone.

Harry grins, fingers twitching to slide through his hair, and before Louis can doubt himself, he just asks, “you wanna hang out in my dorm?”

The answering breathless laugh kind of says it all.

_________________________

They spend hours curled up on Louis’s bed, Harry relentlessly mocking the ‘cult-like vibe’ of all the emerald green, to the point Louis starts getting a little teary eyed trying to defend his house. So sue him, he’s a snake and loyal about it.

“I’ve always loved cats,” Harry comments at one point, watching as Midnight curls up on the dresser next to Zayn’s bed, “they’re so easy to handle. There’s no stress to it, like with dogs.”

Louis grins, carding his fingers through Harry’s curls and agreeing, “Everyone always says dogs are the most loyal, but Aphrodite’s been with me through every test I’ve taken for the last three years. They’re amazing.”

There’s a lazy hint to Harry’s returning smile, like the petting has made him tired, and it makes Louis so endeared that he has to turn his face into his pillow to stop it from showing.

“I’ve never really gotten relationships like that either,” Louis tests, voice slightly shaky from nerves. He hates how this never quite fades; how there’s always the fear that coming out will only bring bad consequences and screaming matches. “Where you have to force it every step of the way. Or the ones where, like. People get married and want that forever. I don’t understand that.”

Harry hums, face turning into Louis’s thigh as he glances up, “it’s just, like, putting all your eggs in one basket, isn’t it? I don’t really get how you could do that and not get bored. I’ve never even had a crush before. Made me feel proper weird in second year, when everyone suddenly had people they liked and talked about it all the time, and I just wanted to keep hanging out with my mates. It’s like friendships are put second, after romantic relationships, you know? And it’s worse in the wizarding world, when people want you to carry on the line, and the only thing you can think is _how can I do that when I’m never going to fall in love_. It took me ages to realise that doesn’t make me broken, that it’s just another bit of myself, whole as any other part could be.”

Louis’s silent, listening to him, a feeling of _that’s me, you get me, you’re like me_ pulsing through him like lightning, like the feeling when you first get your wand. When you feel yourself cast your first spell, or when you win your first duel. This breathless, heady exhilaration that sinks bone deep.

“Before I first saw what it was to be aro, it felt like I was making it up.” Louis mumbles, and Harry lets out a deep breath, chest shaking, like he wants to say something but is waiting for the right time. “Like, maybe I just thought it was gross, you know, still in that phase where I was too young to know what it was, and I’d grow out of it. So I tried dating Niall, and I realised I didn’t want that. That wasn’t me, I didn’t get why you’d be so invested in that. It was just a friendship to me. And then a few months later, Zayn told me about the term, and. That was it. Like something fell into place. I’m not broken, and even if I believed that it wouldn’t invalidate me.”

Harry’s hand comes up to grip Louis’s waist, a pressure that sears through his shirt and makes him feel like he’s being turned inside out. It means something, he knows, that touch. Solidarity, and comfort, and relief.

He grips him back, thumb rubbing over the jut of his shoulder.

“You’re not gross or making it up,” Harry murmurs, “d’you wanna hear about my cat?”

And it should feel like a brush off, like he’s trying to change the conversation with all his might, but it doesn’t. It just feels like a natural progression, so he nods his head yes.

It turns out that his cat was the same one he was carrying the day of Louis’s Quidditch accident, and her name is Algernon (“It means ‘whiskers’, you get it?” Louis barely holds back a giggle at the absurdity of it). She’s two years old, and never stops moving about the castle. Harry loves her with all his heart, wants to spend his whole life with her.

Looking down at Harry in his lap, he’s sure of one out of two of those things for himself.

_________________________

Zayn walks in on them that evening, calling out for Louis because it’s time for dinner, and just rolls his eyes and invites Harry along, too. He agrees, and Louis doesn’t bother stamping out the smile twitching at his mouth. He’s too glad that these parts of his life are sliding together so easily, like they were meant to fit.

_________________________

“You’re sure you still want to do this?” Zayn asks, counting out the vials with his tongue between his teeth.

All Louis has to do is say no, but. He doesn’t want to. The plan may have changed a few times (“A couple hundred, more like.”) but where it’s at now, with giving people love potions and showing off that it doesn’t work for himself, he’s excited for that. Especially because Zayn had figured out how to make the potions show different types of love; because he’d spent hours poring over the ingredients list, and then decided he wanted a more definitive show of their uselessness for romantic abilities if the drinker isn’t into that. Zayn’s work deserved credit, or something.

“I’m sure,” he nods, before plucking one of the vials from the furthest row back, “and I’m going to take this one.”

Zayn looks startled for a second, before realisation blinks into his eyes like starlight.

Because, like, maybe laying in bed a couple nights ago Louis had decided this was the way to tell Harry about his (completely absurd) squish on him. Maybe he’d decided he wanted to make sure, before it got worse, that the feelings were mutual. Maybe he’d tried to research ways to flee the country if it all falls to shit, but hopefully he won’t have to put that knowledge to the test.

“Alright. I’ll go tell one of the elves to add this to the goblets we specified, and then we’ll go up to dinner together.” He pauses as he’s brushing them all into his bag. “You are absolutely, one hundred percent sure, right? Because, even though I think he has a squish on you too, and that it’s mutual, there’s also a chance I’m wrong. So, like, I want to make sure-”

“Bloody hell, I’m sure, now go!” He shoves Zayn out of the room, but also making sure to press a kiss to his cheek before he starts jogging off, to show him that he loves Zayn for helping him. Even if he thinks it’s a bad idea.

Louis barely has time to pace the room and feel anxious before Zayn’s peeking back around the door, eyes bright.

“Take your potion now. You want to get it done as soon as possible, right?” Louis obeys him, only because otherwise he wouldn’t shut up.

His hands tremble as he uncorks the thin tube, and he presses it to his lips and closes his eyes.

It tastes disgusting, is the first thing he thinks, and then the second is _I really want to be near Harry._

So. It worked, then. No going back.

He makes his way through the corridors, Zayn murmuring into his ear about something or other, like Louis needs to think about anything except for Harry right now. He keeps trying to push off from Zayn, but he refuses to let him. He’s so mean, honestly, but then they’re approaching the doors, and Zayn grins widely, presses a gentle kiss to his cheek, and lets him go.

Harry’s sat at the Hufflepuff table when Louis slides through the doors into the Great Hall, and he makes a beeline for him, Zayn behind him going… Somewhere not important. He’s a man on a mission, or something. All he knows is there’s this great, buzzing pressure to be touching Harry and telling him how he feels. He doesn’t care what happens after.

“Hey, Tommo!” Niall calls, and Louis doesn’t even acknowledge it, too consumed with his mission, just turns his head away and squeezes into a gap between Harry and some girl from a couple years below them he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how Niall reacts, and for now he doesn’t care, just leans in close to Harry’s face and giggles.

“Louis,” Harry murmurs, looking vaguely concerned. That’s bad. Harry shouldn’t ever look concerned. He should look happy all the time. “Are you okay?”

Harry smells like flowers and disinfectant, and also a whole lot like cat. Louis likes that one the best. He associates cats with everything good in the world, and Harry’s definitely one of those things.

“I’m more than okay,” he says, balancing his chin on his palms, fluttering his eyelashes. Harry’s so pretty. “You’re so pretty.”

Harry goes slightly pink. “Thank you? Listen, Louis, whatever you’ve done-”

Louis kisses him. He doesn’t even think about it before he does it, just leans in and presses his mouth to Harry’s and feels every part of him slow down. Harry’s so warm, lips soft against his, and it feels so good to be this close to him, this attached to him. He moves one hand behind Harry’s head, and tangles his fingers into the curls at the very nape of his neck. They’re so soft, even softer than the rest of his hair, and Louis didn’t think that was possible, but apparently it is.

“Oh,” Harry whispers against his mouth, and Louis frowns and tries to move closer, but Harry just presses his fingertips to his chest, blinking like he’s shocked.

And. In any other time, any other state of mind, Louis wouldn’t feel his throat burning with tears at that. He’d just laugh and nod and get on with it, but the potion’s just intensified everything, so much so that there are tears already prickling behind his eyes, like one thousand different needles telling him he’s never, ever going to have Harry like him now.

“I’ve got a squish on you.” He mumbles, instead, and his voice sounds rough, and he hates it. He just wants to hug Harry, but if Harry doesn’t want that, then. Fair enough.

Harry’s eyes widen, green circles of incredulity, mouth slightly popped open.

Louis’s going to cry, right in the middle of the Great Hall, where everyone’s watching what just happened. Oh, no. He’s going to have to move to Albania.

“You too?” Harry asks, and for some reason that doesn’t process to Louis as a ‘This is completely mutual I absolutely understand’ statement. It just sounds like white noise to him, like a loop of I don’t like you and why would I?

“Please don’t hate me, Harry, I never meant to get a squish or anything, and I just. I never wanted to ruin what we had but now I have and-”

Harry stops him, rolling his eyes with a small quirk to the side of his mouth.

“I don’t hate you, loser,” he laughs, leaning closer, mouth so close Louis could kiss it, and he’d really, really like that, “I’ve got a squish on you, too. Have for months, actually. Or maybe a couple years.”

Louis stills, mouth trembling. This can’t be real. He can’t get something this good, he just can’t.

“You want to be my boyfriend?” He asks, trembling and soft and barely there, because if he doesn’t say it loud maybe this never happened, and he can forget it when Harry laughs in his face.

Harry wrinkles his nose.

“If you’re okay with calling it that, yeah,” he leans in close, nose brushing the tip of Louis’s own, breath fanning over Louis’s lips, “now you can kiss me.”

So he does, and all of a sudden it’s not this desperate urge to touch Harry, to hold him and kiss him and tell him he’s incredible. It’s just there, dormant, under his skin, like a match waiting to be lit.

And he’s fine with that being there forever.

_________________________

“Do you think we should tell him that was just some spring water, at some point?” Zayn asks, reaching around Niall’s shoulders to grab the dessert platter.

“Nah,” he responds, “let him believe it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://bvckyau.tumblr.com/)||[fic post](http://bvckyau.tumblr.com/post/136838624981/theres-magic-between-you-and-me-harrylouis/)


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